M

Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by thingy, May 21, 2009.

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  1. Once upon a time there lived a wicked witch in a deep, dark, fallout shelter in Amsetten. This tale has nothing to do with her however. This is the tale of a missing child who we shall call Child M.

    It was a nice hot day (nice for some) in a small resort where the locals ate squid and the tourists quaffed the local Vimto, an apéritif known as Port. One evening like many other evenings, M lay in bed, comatose after supping The Linctus (known to matelots as a Wet) which her parents gave her to help her sleep, then they slipped out to participate in the local equivalent of Cum Dancing. Every hour or so Daddy would slip back to the hotel room to check all was well but this evening all was not well. Child M had been sleepwalking again and had inadvertendly slipped on the Polished Mess Square and hit her head on the layers of Gleem. As daddy had been up all the previous night glifting and gleeming the hallowed deck he was unimpressed. Using a large, highly unabsorbant pusser towel he'd purloined from the scran bag, he wiped all the red port that was left on the deck went right to the Starboard, a local bistro, and got pissed. What to do, that was the question? Suddenly from behind the bushes appeared a man dressed as a Clown, with sharp white teeth.

    Hello granny, he said, I wonder if you could help?

    What can I do son, said his sea dad.......
     
  2. I am a courophobic you helmet! Fcuk clowns argh!
     
  3. And with that he doubled off when he realized to his horror, that he'd left the port-stained rag with Insp Arguedo Clown of the local police.....
     

  4. Thingy...the similarity of your anecdote to the alleged circumstances of Madeline McCanns demise are breathtakingly startling!
     
  5. Sh1t, how did he know I was dressed as a clown 8O
     
  6. ...said Wrecker, as he stuffed the thick wad of notes into his pocket from the Accidental Tourist (Monty, a professional layabout aka Ship's Writer). He grabbed some heavy chains that has been left by the said Tourist (purpoined from the chain locker) and proceeded to make his way to Amstetten Guest House where its popular and smartly dressed, genial host RJ, sat in the Reception with a smug look on his face. For some odd reason he had a sense of deja vu.... he was convinced that he'd encountered this story before. That story however was an ongoing saga involving influental professionals in a rather too cosy relationship with journos who ought to know better. No, this is a tale about working class parents from a council estate (HMS Westminster Mansions) who'd come into some money, courtesy of the taxpayer, to pay the interest only on their second home: Crusted Warre Villa. They had taken all 19 of their taxpayer assisted children to the resort and now had to concoct a story to explain how their favourite daughter had slipped and bashed her head whilst under the influence of The Linctus, a medicine that had been bought at the taxpayer's expense from Berry Bros. It was clear that they would need to decide on a credible story that both of them swore by backed up by their oppos and the evidence would need to conform to their tale of woe and dering do.

    Mrs. M (for it is she) appeared at the door of their villa the following morning armed only with a glass of Bollinger Grand Annee and a skimpy nightdress made of moth silk, when she noticed that The Knocker was none other that Inspector.........
     

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